


(Instead of slowing down, I just shine brighter.)

by softly (alexenglish)



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Clubbing, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 13:40:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11556351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/softly
Summary: I think I’ve got fireflies where my caution should be.





	(Instead of slowing down, I just shine brighter.)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clarz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarz/gifts).



> [a softer world project](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/asofterworld)

 

It’s always a club.

Neon lights and a heavy bassline are a permanent backdrop to all of Nick’s terrible decisions. Have been for most of his adult life, really. Blame the vodka, the tequila, the Jaeger bombs that he keeps downing even though he _hates_ black licorice.

He’s positive he’s been in this particular scenario before, making a terrible decision, plenty of times. Sat on a grey sofa in some exclusive club, top 40 pounding in his ears whilst Harry attempts to talk his ear off despite the noise level.

Nick’s palms are slick from condensation. The glass in his hand is sweating liberally -- profusely? Can glasses sweat profusely, or only people… ? -- which means he’s been holding it for too long. That’s the rule, innit? If the ice is half melted, he’s been slacking. Which might be alright, all things considered.

He keeps having these terrible profound moments of clarity where he wonders what the fuck he’s doing, but there’s usually a less reasonable voice shouting over top of them about how great Louis’ bum looks in the jeans he’s wearing.

Not that it all comes down to Louis’ bum. It’s Louis in general that’s the clincher, here. Louis is the _main_ reason Nick’s at this club, with all of Louis’ laddy friends, desperately trying to remind himself to stop looking over at Louis every five seconds.

It’s been a rough weekend.

Nick drains his glass, alcohol sharp down his throat. He’s hardly buzzed, it’s a tragedy.

“I can’t do this,” Nick shouts, interrupting whatever story Harry was attempting to tell over the music. It’s dulled up here on the second floor, so people _can_ socialize, but it’s still loud and Nick’s ears aren’t what they were when he started radio.

“Do what?” Harry asks, sounding genuinely confused. Nick glares at him until Harry relents and rolls his eyes. “We can leave.”

Nick feels his mouth go tight. Because he doesn’t want to. He wants to be here, wants to socialize. It’s just... getting difficult to be around Louis since Nick’s been in LA.

Came all the way out to California on a weekend to meet Louis’ little lad, hotel plans ruined when Louis offered up his guest bedroom. It’s been nearly three days of complete Tomlinson immersion, and Nick’s teensie crush on Louis went from harmless to full on, heart-throbbing _want_.

He’s disgusted with himself, if he’s honest.

It’s been quite awhile since he liked someone to a debilitating degree, he was doing so _well_. Then Tomlinson came in on the show with his stupid matured face and lovely voice, charming as Harry the whole time, and somehow got Nick to promise he’d meet Freddie at some point.

That point was this weekend, since Nick had fuck all to do and Harry was in LA again, finally. At least he had half an excuse to be there. The other half of his excuse is currently sprawled on the other side of the couch, thighs spread wide like an invitation that Nick would never be brave enough to take.

Nick’s too fucking _old_ for the butterflies in his stomach, but they’re there, and getting worse still when Louis meets Nick’s eyes and raises his eyebrows. Nick shrugs, smirking before he looks away, like that was totally on purpose and Louis didn’t just catch him watching… again.

Fuck.

“I can’t watch this happen,” Harry says. lips brushing Nick’s ear. “You’re a wreck, Grimmy.”

“And you’re a knob,” Nick says. “I’m not gunna walk over like, plop myself in his lap, am I?”

“It’s what I would do,” Harry shrugs.

“Not with Louis you wouldn’t,” Nick says, laughing, trying to imagine the Twitter apocalypse that would incite. There would be riots in the street. They would all have to go into hiding. Being at a club together in the same section is risky enough, even with how private this one is. Sworn to secrecy and whatnot. Fucking, popstars.

“Okay, true,” Harry says thoughtfully. “But anyone else.” He would too, Nick knows that much. It’s how Harry gets people he wants, throws himself at them bodily and hopes that he lands -- literally and metaphorically.

Nick’s far more cautious since he discovered he’s the type people like to leave heartbroken.

“Don’t you think he’s straight?” Nick asks. That’s basically the root of his existential crisis, if he’s honest. He’s too _old_ to fancy straight blokes. Harry’s face does something complicated, and Nick’s heart honest to _god_ jumps in his chest. “Nevermind -- don’t answer that.”

Harry laughs loudly, hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Let’s just say he’s not a zero on the Kinsey scale.”

“I’m feeling poorly,” Nick says, groaning. Harry’s still laughing at him. “I told you not to answer.”

“I think you have a shot, is all,” Harry says, eyes wide and sincere, and Nick wants to shove his face away, but he can’t because it is sweet that Harry’s so concerned about the whole thing.

Concerned because he know exactly how Nick gets when he fancies blokes. Especially unattainable blokes.

“You love babies,” Harry had said, when Nick told him the plan to stay with Louis and Freddie over the weekend. That was pretty much the sum.

Nick loves babies, and Louis has a baby, and he spent whole entire days in the company of them both. Watching the way Louis was so soft and sweet towards Freddie. Listening to Louis absently spout off about parental things that Nick had definitely heard before, but wanted to hear Louis talk about anyway because it was just… Lovely. Lovely and domestic.

“I feel so poorly,” Nick groans.

“Stop thinking about it,” Harry says sagely. Then he claps his huge hand on Nick’s thigh and grins. “I’m going to dance.”

Nick waves him off, in need of another drink. There’s an array of bottles on the table in front of Nick, but before he can make his own, there’s a bloody Jaeger bomb being slid towards him.

“I hate these,” Nick complains, but he takes it from Louis, fingers brushing. The delicacy of Louis’ hands always surprises him, how small they actually are when you pay attention. Not that it matters.

Louis plops into the seat next to him, so close that their sides press together. He’s unfairly gorgeous. Tousled hair, sharp cheekbones, bright eyes; soft peach button up on with dark jeans that hug his thighs nicely. It’s doing a number on Nick, just looking at him.

“I know,” Louis says, but he doesn’t offer an explanation as to why he keeps bringing them. It’s probably some sort of Louis Tomlinson assessment. How many times can he make Nick drink Jaeger bombs before Nick actually stops him.

Well.

The whole thing burns going down, but it’s worth the wide smile on Louis’ face.

“Why aren’t you mingling?” Louis asks, leaning in. Nick wonders if he knows how high his hand is on Nick’s thigh.

Nick shrugs. He can’t say he wants to keep away from Louis because he’s afraid he’ll act like a complete tit, or somehow give himself away. He doesn’t have anything in common with the lads Louis has with him, and Harry’s friends only show up when everyone’s already plastered.

“Would you like to come outside with me?” Louis asks, tilting his head. “I’m dying for a smoke.”

“Sure,” Nick says, standing at the same time Louis does. They tip a bit, hips bumping since they were sitting so close. Louis’ hand curls around Nick’s elbow, steadying him. And then he’s gone, leading the way to the balcony whilst Nick reminds himself to breathe.

“How do’ya feel?” Louis asks, once they’ve settled at a standing table outside. It’s tucked away in a corner. Nick can’t see the door from here, can’t see anyone else. The music is quieter, easier to talk over. “Early flight tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Nick shrugs, shoving a hand through his hair. “Drinking lots of water in between shots.”

“Oh good,” Louis snorts, taking a drag.

“Yeah,” Nick agrees, distracted by the way Louis’ cheeks hollow out, the way his lashes frame his eyes, the way it’s too dark to see the blue of them and they’re just _deep_ instead.

Louis smirks, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth before offering the cigarette to Nick. He shouldn’t, but he takes it, needing something to do with his hands. He's really trying not to think about the fact that Louis sought him out for a moment together.

“What’s been up?” Louis asks, eyes on the ashtray as he rubs out the cigarette. He doesn’t make to go inside, just stands there watching Nick. “Tonight, I mean. You seem --” he gestures loosely at Nick, like that it explains it.

“Uhm,” Nick replies.

“Fidgety,” Louis volunteers.

“Fidgety,” Nick echoes, holding still. He was messing with his bracelets without realizing. Fidgeting with them. Louis snorts at him.

“Bein’ weird, Grimshaw,” he says. He looks away again, teeth biting into his bottom lip. There’s tension in the line of his shoulders. Nick frowns. “Keep staring at me.” Louis meets Nick’s eyes, bounces his eyebrows.

“Staring?” Nick scoffs. His stomach is full of butterflies again. He’s not sure how much of this he can take. “Coincidentally timed glances, maybe.”

“Christ, eat a dictionary,” Louis says, laughing. Nick wonders if he knows how much he’s leaning in to talk to Nick. It’s very… unexpected when he sighs softly and looks at Nick very seriously. “Just want to know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking that _you’re_ being strange,” Nick says, throat thick as Louis looks around the rest of the smoking balcony. Slowly, but not as nonchalant as he probably means to be.

“I liked having you around,” Louis says abruptly, facing Nick again. “This weekend, like. I didn’t expect it to be that easy.” He laughs. “Offered up the spare room because that’s the type of shit me mum would yell at me for -- making you stay in a hotel.”

“Right.” Nick frowns. He’d do the same thing. It’s polite, really. “I appreciate it. I liked being… had around.” Christ.

“You’re not as much of a twat as I remember,” Louis says, kicking at Nick’s boots with his own. There’s a smile on his lips, teasing. Nick swallows and has to look away.

“Well, you’ve matured,” Nick sniffs. “See things from a more adult point of view, don’t you?”

That gets a big belly laugh from Louis, quick and loud. “Shit, probably,” he admits, once he’s calmed down a bit. There’s still a grin on his face, and he looks like he wants to giggle, but he keeps it under control.

They watch each other for another moment before Louis taps his fingers against the table hard and says, “yeah.”

He takes a step forward and bounces up on his toes, pulling Nick in by the front of his shirt. Nick’s a bit dazed when Louis presses their mouths together.

“Alright?” Louis asks, pulling away, anxious line between his brows.

“Yeah, no,” Nick says. “I mean, yes.” Louis grin and leans in again, slower this time. The kiss is slow and tender, but Louis is holding onto him tightly, Nick’s pretty sure he’s barely keeping himself from snogging Nick’s face off. Nick admires the restraint on both their parts.

Louis’ tongue darts out and Nick groans, letting him deepen the kiss. They sway together for another moment before Louis pulls back, breathing heavily.

Nick manages not to care that Louis looks around the balcony again before turning his attention back to Nick. He should probably be worried about being caught as well, but he really isn’t. He’s already out, and far too old to give a shit about who sees him snog popstars in dark corners of exclusive clubs.

“So, uh,” Louis licks his lips. He seems to have lost some of his bravado.

“What was that for?” Nick asks, because he has to. They’re still holding onto each other. It should feel more awkward than it does.

“Harry told me you fancied me,” Louis says, looking unbearable smug. “I s’pose it’s true.”

“Might be,” Nick says, blinking. He’s going to kill Harry. He’s going to marry Harry, take out a life insurance policy, _then_ kill Harry so he can live as a rich widow afterwards. Maybe Louis would be his side piece through it all. Nick giggles at the absurdity. Of course Harry told Louis, of course. “He’s a loudmouth.”

“It worked out,” Louis says, pressing up on his toes to kiss the corner of Nick’s mouth, and Nick reckons he can’t really argue with that, can he?

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog on tumblr](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/post/163205080502/instead-of-slowing-down-i-just-shine)


End file.
